


Gathering the Threads

by miss_grey



Series: What We Do In The Dark [45]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone's protective of each other, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sort Of, Supernatural AU - Freeform, hunter dick winters, it's a weird situation y'all, more strange ust, vampire nix, witch gene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21606742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_grey/pseuds/miss_grey
Summary: Somewhere, in the space between dreaming and waking, a plan begins to form.
Relationships: Babe Heffron/Eugene Roe, Dick Winters & Eugene Roe, Lewis Nixon & Eugene Roe, Lewis Nixon/Richard Winters
Series: What We Do In The Dark [45]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1366063
Comments: 25
Kudos: 59





	Gathering the Threads

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone had a good holiday. :)

It was 3am when Nix wandered back into the library from tucking Dick into their bed. The house was quiet, but tense, despite the silence and relative calm. A taste of ozone still flavored the air and it gave Nix a chill.

He found Gene passed out on a spread of old books, his head cradled in pale arms, his raven hair spilling over his forehead elegantly. His face was turned to the side and Nix could see that even in the kind of sleep resulting from pure exhaustion, the man’s brows were pinched, his lips turned down in the hint of a frown. His back was probably gonna hurt like hell when he finally roused himself once more. Beside his elbow, a notebook lay open, filled with messy notes jotted down in a jumble of English and French. Complex symbols and lines of poetry. Or maybe spells. Nix couldn’t tell.

Nix settled in the chair across from Gene and regarded the sleeping man with a mix of apprehension and sympathy. He’d been going non-stop since he’d woken in the hospital, if Dick was to be believed, and his fervor had only increased since he’d received the phone call from the demon the day before. Nix remembered it with a shudder.

Gene had paced back and forth in the library, his new headquarters, the phone pressed close to his ear, as he fought to keep his calm, voice stoic and clipped, despite whatever the demon was saying. But then something changed, and Gene stopped, mid-stride, and Nix saw it happen: his eyes grew darker, but he could swear there was a hint of lightning in them. Gene shouted into the phone, begging and cursing and making promises that sounded like threats. The lights flickered wildly, coming brighter after each time they dimmed, _on off, on off, on off,_ until one of them finally burst just as Gene ended the call. In the dim, remaining light, Nix watched the man shake so hard he thought he’d fall apart, but eventually his fists relaxed, his shoulders dropped, and he tossed the phone onto the table, muttering “Fuck,” and then “’m sorry ‘bout the light.”

Dick had replaced it without a word while Gene slumped, frustrated and weary at the table. After a moment, though, his shoulders tightened again and he reached for another book. They had too much work to do. They couldn’t afford to stop. And Gene hadn’t. Not since then. He’d refused to move from the table, frantic, mumbling to himself, pouring over the books. Dick had had to force-feed him and remind him to take a walk every so often so he didn’t cramp. Gene had argued, each time, but he’d caved under Dick’s implacable glare and obeyed.

Nix stared at him now, and decided to let him get a bit of rest. He needed it. And if Dick was right (which Nix figured he was) they’d need Gene to be in peak form when they finally figured out what they were going to do. Nix had a sick feeling in his stomach that everything would probably hinge on the witch. 

Nix pulled a book from the pile, and, still casting Gene a watchful glance every so often, he made himself useful.

* * *

_Edward lay on a dirty cement floor, his body bent and broken, blood pooling in a dark puddle around him, slowly inching wider, wider. “Gene….” He gasped, pale, freckled hand reaching for a moment before it, too, fell, limp and broken._

_“Babe, no!” Gene screamed, feet skidding on the cement, slipping, and he crashed down next to his lover. “Hold on, I’m here, hold on, I’ve got ya.” Gene ripped Edward’s shirt away from his abdomen—his flesh was shredded, as though claws had torn through him, from the inside. “Oh, God,” Gene gasped, “please help me.” He tried to stop the bleeding, tried to comfort Edward’s tears. Gene began to murmur the most powerful healing prayer he knew, his hands trembling against Edward’s bloody belly._

_Nothing happened._

_“No, God, please,” Gene begged, “please help me. Please help me to heal him!” Despite his pleas, he felt no rush of warmth, no tingle of power. Nothing. “God, help me.” Still, nothing. Gene did the only thing he could, then: he focused on slowing the bleeding, on murmuring to Edward “You’re gonna be okay, Babe, alright? You’re gonna be okay. It ain’t that bad.”_

_He was still frantically murmuring those words when Edward’s hand fell away from him, limp, and he breathed his last breath._

_“Oh, God, this can’t be happening,” Gene cried, “it’s just a dream! A bad dream. It can’t be real. It can’t.”_

_Suddenly, Gene heard distinct steps across the cement and he raised his tear-streaked, utterly devastated face to find his mother standing before him, gazing down at him with her warm, sympathetic eyes, like she had so many times in life. She sighed, reaching out to brush her fingers through his hair, and she said “Sweetheart…I told ya before. You can’t fix everything.”_

* * *

Gene jolted awake with a gasp, his whole body shaking as he sat back from the pile of books he’s been slumped over. He ran a hand down his face and discovered, with a pang, that his cheek was wet with tears. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath…and realized that Nix was watching him from across the table. Gene felt his hackles rise, felt himself scrambling for any kind of defense—but thankfully, the vampire didn’t say a thing. He simply regarded Gene with soft eyes, and maybe a hint of concern. They watched each other for a moment, silent, but both present, both understanding. And then Nix slid his own notebook, filled with notes, toward Gene so he could see what the vampire had found.

Gene stared at the words for a long moment, seeing, but not understanding. Then he raised his eyes to Nix’s, and saw that the vampire knew what he was thinking. Gene gazed back down at the notes, then looked at his own collection of sketched runes and spells and sat back, brows furrowed, to contemplate.

* * *

Dick was just waking up from his three hour, Nix-enforced nap when his phone vibrated on the nightstand. He reached over and saw he had a text from Harry which read: _Are you all okay?_

Dick sat against the headboard and typed back: _We’re okay. Safe. Hidden. Warded._

Harry: _Good. Is The Doc still laid up?_

Dick snorted before responding: _He’s up and about. Seems to be doing okay._

Harry: _He do the warding?_

Dick: _Yep. You guys safe? How’s Kitty?_

Harry: _We’re fine. Sent out messages to all the other guys to be on guard until the situation is sorted. They said they’d keep an eye out for Lip. Kitty’s fine—she’s keeping herself busy by putting Webster and Garcia through their paces. They were here when the wards went up, and she didn’t feel comfortable letting them leave._

Dick: _Tell her hi for me._

Harry: _Will do._

Dick: _Any news from Philadelphia? Gene will want to know._

Harry: _They’re getting back up on their feet. I spoke to Bill Guarnere._

Dick: _About that—you never told me you knew him. Not until that night._

Harry: _I told you I had a source in Philly._

Dick scoffed, before typing: _I didn’t think it was the leader of a werewolf pack!_

Harry: _Bill’s pack is a bit different._

Dick rolled his eyes and hoped Harry could feel the sarcasm through the text: _Yeah, Gene mentioned._

Harry: _Well who do you think arranged for Bill and The Doc to meet?_

Dick shook his head, amazed that there were still plenty of things that he didn’t know about his friend. He typed: _You, I guess._

Harry: _My good deed for the decade. Anyway…Bill says they’re recovering. Kid named Julian finally woke up from his coma but he’s still in the hospital. The kid—Babe’s—mom is still heartbroken, but I guess you probably figured that. Oh. And no one has seen the shifter, George Luz, for a couple days. They think he went looking for Lip._

Dick: _Thanks, Harry. Anything else?_

Harry: _Just to tell you to be careful._

Dick: _You too._

He rose from the bed, stretching, and made his way downstairs to the library again, ready to begin pouring over more ancient books. Only, when he got there, he found Nix leaning back in his chair, balanced on two legs, looking a bit…concerned. Dick stopped in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

Nix shifted his gaze, which lingered on Dick and slowly warmed. “Nothing.”

Dick glanced around but it was obvious Gene wasn’t there. “Did he finally agree to go to sleep?”

Nix snorted. “No. He went up to his room. Said he had to grab something, I think.”

“Oh, alright.” Dick lingered in the door, concerned. “You sure you’re okay?”

Nix nodded. “Yeah, Dick, I’m fine.”

“Alright.” Dick glanced back toward the stairs. “I’m gonna go find him. Harry texted with some news I’m sure he’ll want to hear.”

“Yeah,” Nix said, drawing the word out slightly longer than necessary. “Good news?”

Dick nodded. “I think so.”

“That’s good,” Nix said, rocking back in his chair again, “figure the guy could use some good news right about now.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

* * *

Dick wandered back up the stairs until he found himself standing in front of Gene’s door. It was cracked open slightly and a beam of warm light spilled out. Dick knocked, brusquely, but when Gene didn’t answer, he slowly pushed the door open. From the doorway, Dick could see Gene standing in the bright lights of the en-suite bathroom, shirt off, inspecting himself in the mirror. Realizing the man was half-naked, Dick hurried to shut the door but paused halfway through the motion, his eyes catching on something unexpected in the mirror. Gene had tattoos—blue and black ink, swirls and runes, and ancient words, etched into his skin. They were unlike anything Dick had seen before. Dick must have made a sound, because Gene raised his eyes in the mirror and caught sight of Dick. Dick felt his stomach clench, ashamed at having been caught staring when he knew he should have gone. Expecting a reprimand, he was surprised when, instead, Gene kept eye contact and nodded for Dick to come in. 

Feeling wary and uncomfortably like he was trespassing, Dick cautiously made his way into the room and came to stand in the bathroom door. He waited patiently, his eyes once again drawn to the ink. Apparently absorbed in whatever he was doing, Gene turned his eyes away from Dick’s and continued to observe his own body in the mirror. Dick’s curiosity got the better of him and he allowed his eyes to trace the strange, intricate lines—one tattoo wrapped around Gene’s hip, another climbed over his ribs and around to his back. A third, smaller and sharper than the rest, sat above his heart—a star, wreathed in flame. And finally, Dick’s eyes caught, and lingered, on a thin white scar on Gene’s belly—a place he, himself was intimately familiar with. If he allowed himself to think about it, he could still feel Gene’s trembling body, heaving chest, the blood gushing through their combined, tangled fingers as they attempted to hold his life in…. Now just a fine white line, hardly noticeable against the already-pale skin, unless you knew what you were looking for. Dick hadn’t had a choice but to believe the man when he’d said he was healed, but still part of him, deep down, had doubted. He didn’t anymore. 

Dick cleared his throat. “I spoke with Harry. He’s been in touch with Bill. Julian woke up from his coma.”

Gene’s eyes slowly tracked from his own abdomen to meet Dick’s eyes in the mirror once more. “That’s good to hear. Julian’s a good kid. Just sorry I couldn’t help him.”

Dick nodded. “Harry also said George Luz is missing—they think he’s looking for Lip, too.”

“They’re good friends—or at least, they were. Makes sense.”

Dick didn’t say anything about Babe’s mom, though—he figured Gene didn’t need to hear that right now, but also that the man probably already knew. So instead, Dick asked “Are you okay?”

Still looking at Dick in the mirror, Gene said “Yeah. ‘M fine. Just…had a thought.”

Dick knew it was rude, and he hadn’t been raised that way, but he was curious as hell, and Gene was _right there,_ out in the open. He’d invited Dick in. “Are the tattoos just decorative, or…?”

Gene’s smile was small and fleeting, but there. “They all contain spells, of one kind or another.” He swallowed, thickly, and his eyes seemed to shutter. “And two of ‘em are in memory of my mother and grandmother.”

Dick nodded, because he didn’t know what to say to that. Gene had apparently experienced a lot of loss in his time.

Suddenly, Gene turned toward him and his dark eyes were serious, appraising, even more intense without the mirror between them. “Are you sure you still wanna go with me when I go to get Edward and Lipton?”

Dick didn’t even have to think on it. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Gene held Dick’s gaze for a moment, then flicked his eyes down to Dick’s feet then back up to his face. Dick felt the need to shift, awkwardly, on his feet, but he held his ground. 

The moment stretched…tense…silent…full.

Then Gene sighed, his shoulders slumping, and he said, “Alright. There’s somethin’ we need ta do, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear readers! Remember comments are love, so please let me know what you thought of the chapter! Also, feel free to come say hi on tumblr. I'm @realhunterswearplaid. :)


End file.
